


Buttons

by Emphyrio



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 09:57:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12838767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emphyrio/pseuds/Emphyrio
Summary: Kirk teaches Spock how to correctly button his civvies.





	Buttons

It was chilly as normal in the replicator room, and Spock repressed a shiver as he slipped on the soft, flimsy fabric shirt. It felt rough against his skin in comparison to the silky microfibers of a Starfleet uniform, and the sleeves didn’t quite reach his wrists. He grimaced as his clumsy fingers did up the pearly buttons and secured the garish blue plaid loosely around his slender torso.  


“Are you ready yet?” A voice sounded from outside the closed door.

Of course Kirk was already finished dressing. He was far more used to the archaic clothing styles than Spock.

“Just about, Captain,” Spock called back.

“Well, finish up,” Kirk replied. “We were supposed to meet Scotty in the transporter room five minutes ago.”

Spock pulled a soft black beanie over his head and tried in vain to stretch the sleeves out to match his overlong arms. Giving up, he strode to the door in unfamiliar cotton trousers and polished black boots. The door hissed open to reveal Kirk, dressed in an equally garish green plaid shirt, hands nonchalantly on hips, waiting expectantly. Spock could not help but notice the way his gently curved form seemed trapped by the thin fabric, soft pink flesh pushing outwards against straining buttons. He seemed as natural in the archaic garments as he did in his uniform. Spock’s gaze drifted upwards from the tightly bound torso to meet Kirk’s laughing golden eyes. He was obviously trying to repress a chuckle. Spock raised an eyebrow. 

“Is my attire incorrect in some way, Captain?”

“Ah, no, Spock, not exactly,” Kirk laughed. “It’s just…”

He hesitated, looking for a good way to explain what he was finding issue with. “Well, you’ve done up all the buttons,” he said finally.

Spock did not appear to understand the significance of this, but he did note that Kirk’s shirt was undone down to the third button from the top, giving full view of his bronzed collarbone and a hint of his sleek pectorals. “Look, just…” Kirk started. He reached across to Spock’s collar and slipped the topmost button out of its holder. “At least leave it like that.”

Spock nodded, but his eyebrow did not descend.

“I shall take your word for it, Captain.”

Kirk nodded in response and began to turn away.

“Actually,” he said suddenly, raising one index finger and turning back to face Spock, “I think it would be best if we look more…casual. Can’t risk alerting any of the inhabitants of this planet to our strangeness,” he said reasonably.

“That seems…logical,” Spock replied.

Kirk gestured as if asking permission to adjust Spock’s shirt, and Spock acquiesced silently. Kirk reached up once again and deftly undid the second button down from the top. Spock shivered as the warm fingers brushed his skin. A small tuft of dark, curled hair poked temptingly out from the newly deepened neck of the shirt. Kirk frowned.

“Maybe…one more.”

He undid another button and, with some effort, pulled himself away. Looking over the bemused Vulcan, he shook his head like an artist who, displeased with the composition of a piece, must steel himself to reworking it. “Actually, you know what,” he said decisively, moving back to Spock, “there’s still too many buttons here.”

Spock could feel Kirk’s warm breath against his chest as the captain undid three more buttons and gently pulled the fabric apart to reveal more and more of Spock’s slender green chest. Spock inhaled, trying to keep from shaking from what he decided was only the cold.

“Captain, I do not see—”

“Just trust me,” Kirk interrupted, “it’s better this way.”

There were only two buttons left holding the flimsy fabric onto Spock’s body, and Kirk stepped back in consideration. He rubbed his chin between his thumb and index finger in consideration, then nodded in satisfaction. “Yes, this is much better,” he said decisively. Spock cocked his head. It was certainly much chillier. Kirk eyed Spock, who was standing, stoic as ever, with his chest exposed down nearly to the navel. It was very difficult to keep a straight face. “Do you know what?” he asked in sudden inspiration. Spock did not reply, but his eyebrow was nearly vertical. “I think I have an even better idea,” Kirk continued, allowing himself to smile. He moved back into Spock, caressing the icy flesh lightly with his knuckles as he undid the last two buttons. “How about…no buttons?”

With that, he pulled the shirt off of Spock’s torso completely, leaving it to hang backwards from the lean arms. Spock let the sleeves slip over his hands and the gaudy fabric dropped to the floor unheeded as Kirk, standing on his toes, leaned into him for a warm kiss. Kirk grabbed Spock’s waist and pressed their bodies together, feeling the bare chest shudder through his own thin shirt. He pushed forwards slightly, backing Spock into the wall behind them. Spock’s boot caught on the discarded shirt and dragged it with him as he was pressed between the cool plaster and the warm human. Spock extricated his lips from the embrace enough to mutter,

“Are we not supposed to be meeting with Mr. Scott now?”

Kirk rolled his eyes in what could best be described as affectionate frustration.

“I am sure,” he said, momentarily relenting from his passions, “that Mr. Scott can find something to occupy himself. He is, after all, renowned for his resourcefulness, is he not?”

Spock thought this was logical enough, and allowed Kirk to resume his onslaught. When their bodies were parted enough, he reached around to Kirk’s back. Grasping the collar of the shirt, he tugged hard. The fabric split down the middle of Kirk’s chest, sending buttons flying. Kirk gasped with laughter to find himself bare-chested as well. Spock took the opportunity to comment,

“You may have been right about the buttons.”

This only made Kirk laugh harder, and he fell into Spock’s chest, head curled, fists over his eyes. Spock slid slender, searching fingers over the warm skin, clasping them around the giggling human, and rested his head next to Kirk’s. Feeling their torsos press together, he allowed himself the barest of a very un-Vulcanly smile.

Scotty thought it best not to ask questions when the captain and his first officer showed up over half an hour late for their beam-down, dressed in perfectly accurate costume, beanie and all, but each with exactly three buttons undone.


End file.
